Toujours Pur
by yourLastLove
Summary: In Madam Malkin's, Harry meets his first classmate, Draco Malfoy. Hagrid, has told him not to run with the Malfoy's, there a bad crowd... But they've only just met, why does Harry believe him? So much could have been different had Harry just thought for himself... DISLAIMER. Rated T to be safe, R&R plox (: (:
1. Prologue: The Cupboard Under The Stairs

**A/N: This is going to be a long one, everybody! Please tell me your inferences... (; Love reviews, I would love to hear where you think this story is going (: ! Since this is just an intro, and Harry hasn't gotten to Hogwarts yet, it's kind of just everything you already know and have read... But... Why not, right? The rest will come later... Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter One

I

Prologue: The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Harry lived with his Aunt and Uncle. Harry lived with his Aunt and Uncle because his parents died in a car accident. Harry lived with his Aunt and Uncle and Cousin. Harry lived in a cupboard under the stairs... Yes, you heard correctly. Eleven year old Harry's bed, was in the closet beneath the stairs, and honestly, he didn't even mind (not that he had anything to compare it to; he'd been there all his life). It was a safe house really, from all the awful things that happened in the rest of the house. Here he was isolated, away from Aunt Petunia's ugly glares and treating him like a slave, away from Uncle Vernon's purple faced shouting for no reason other than he just simply did not like Harry, and away from his Cousin Dudley's oversized potty mouth. Speaking of Dudley... and mouth... Harry reached up to run a finger across his cheek. It was sore from where Dudley's friend had hit in earlier that day. See, they liked to play a game where they would hunt Harry down, and then beat him. Usually Harry was fast enough to outrun the brutish boys, but not today... No, today Harry had been held and hit multiple times. Twice in the stomach, once in the ribs, and then a last shot in the face. Such was life though, for poor Harry. Not t mention, that his newest clothes (all his others had been ripped up during these foul games) - a rundown set of Dudley's that he'd outgrown in a week of overeating - still smelled like the grotesque boy. Harry sighed. He was leaning back in his bed, staring at the dusty uneven ceiling, pondering a better life. Only... seven more years until he would be able to move out. He wondered for the briefest moment if he would be able to get an after school job, to save up money for his new home on day. That thought was immediately shut down when he heard the family upstairs. Of course, he had to be home straight away so that he could cook, clean, and be bullied. It was only fair, the family _had_ taken him in... right. He'd be better off on the streets. That was, in fact, another out that Harry had contemplated.

At some point during his pondering, thoughts, and general contemplation of life, Harry fell asleep. He was a heavy sleeper, after all these years of hearing obnoxious loud snoring from the other boys in the house. He easily fell into a deep, dream filled sleep.

_A rat scuttled across his bed, a bed that he'd seen many times in this place... Dark walls... dead flowers on the night stand...The only light came from a floating torch maybe five feet away. The bed itself was comfortable enough, albeit a little bit hard, it didn't have any lumps or bumps and didn't squeak at all when he rolled over. 'Squeak'. What... Not that couldn't be the bed... The rat raced across his legs again, and he sat up, suddenly fully conscious and aware. Where did that blasted thing go... 'Squeak'. He turned around in his bed, reaching for his glasses. He couldn't reach them. 'Squeak'. Dammit. He went t get up, but suddenly heard screaming. No. No..._

_ 'Harry!' The woman's voice yelled. There was a flash of blinding green light that left Harry blinking away spots when it disappeared. There was a woman lying slumped across his bed. Dead._

_ 'Squeak'. Christ! Where was that thing?_

_ A dog suddenly crept its way up onto the bed, and laid itself down on Harry's legs, where the rat had just been. It lifted its head and growled at the darkness, where Harry still could only see the blur of distance. He tried to reach again for his glasses, but the dog was holding him down with its weight. It seemed to have put a paw down on his stomach, letting him know without words to stay where he is, before returning to face the ugly dark room._

_ The woman was gone, the squeaking had stopped. The company of the dog seemed to comfort him and he relaxed back down again. He was very tired after all. Time passed. Seconds, minutes, and then hours, and the dog remained where it was, lying protectively across Harry as he drifted in and out of sleep. He was suddenly shocked into full consciousness again when the dog began to growl loudly, snarling, mouth dripping with foam. His nose was scrunched with the effort and his sparkling white teeth glinted even in this blackness. This time, Harry didn't reach for his glasses. He just scrunched his fingers into the dog's hair, letting himself be comforted._

_ The screaming came again, 'Harry!'_

The bed fell out from beneath him... Or... More like he had jumped into the air, shocked out of the horrid dream.

"Harry! Harry get up!" Someone was pounding on the door. He was back safe in his closet...

"Coming, Aunt Petunia!" He called, groggily fisting his eyes before he grabbed his glasses.

He emerged from his room a couple moments later, sporting clothes that were _much_ too big for him.

"Hurry up boy, make the breakfast! Try not to burn anything... I want _everything _to be perfect for my Dudley's special day!"

Harry did as he was told, going into the kitchen and turning on the stove. He cracked some eggs, and filled a second pan with bacon. He would make the toast later so that it wouldn't get cold before breakfast was ready – a trick he'd learned very fast after being smacked painfully over the head by a newspaper.

Today was Dudley's birthday, he was turning eleven. The family was going to the zoo today. Of course, the family meant everyone with the exception of Harry, who would be paying a visit to Ms Figg.

On the table was a stack of presents for Dudley. Harry wasn't sure where he was supposed to put breakfast...

"Oh, no!" Harry heard, the pained voice was coming from the living room.

"What's the matter, darling?" He heard Aunt Petunia ask.

"Ms Figg is _ill_!" He whined. "She's broken her ankle, she can't look after Harry today!"

Harry's heart was suddenly lifted, and sunk down all at the same time. Not that he hated the woman, she was very kind. It was more the smell of cats and a thousand perfumes mixed together that he didn't particularly enjoy. See, Ms Figg liked t make various perfumes out of flowers from her garden, and some of them were very good! Mostly though, they simple smelled of old soaked flowers.

"What do we do, bring him with?" The voice sounded dubious, as if simply saying the words was complete and utter nonsense – something that the Dursley's did _not_ accept into their home.

"Ha!" A slightly more masculine voice exclaimed. "Bring him with? Oh, Petunia." He laughed again.

The stairs were suddenly being pounded as feet smashed down one at a time, rather quickly. "Come with?!" A pubescent voice shouted. "Mummy, Daddy, no, please!" Dudley stammered. "Can't we just leave him here?" He was outraged. "He'll ruin my whole birthday!"

Although his parents tried to reason with him, Dudley only screamed and whined louder and louder until they finally conceded. It was then that he skipped into the kitchen, bumping Harry into the stove as he passed. Harry was used to this behavior though, and quickly caught himself in a way that wouldn't burn the palms f his hands.

Dudley sat down and started tearing open his gifts, feeling rather excited. Petunia and Vernon were still talking in the doorway, semi-concerned voices almost hushed. "What is he supposed to do here all by himself? Do we trust him to stay home alone?" "Surely not! Maybe someone else can watch him?" "No, no, there's no one else." "Well then... give him a list of chores to do?" "We really ought t bring him with..." "Blast... no. Just... Just let him stay here, he'll be fine. He'll... Like the quiet."

It was true. Harry was _very_ excited to hear this news. Home _alone_? That was a dream come true!

X X X

Now... The Dursleys got out of the car, one by one. The two parents looked at each other, sharing the same cautious thoughts about the fourth person to step out of the car. Dudley looked less than pleased about the presence of his cousin, who he so readily despised. This was _his_ day, _not_ Harry's. It was unfortunate, Dudley's circumstance, but Harry didn't mind at all, in fact, it made his day at the zoo that much better knowing that Dudley was miserable. All of the Dursleys were.

They went around, sulking, trying their best t ignore the smaller boy, looking at lions and tigers and bears. They all seemed to be having a somewhat good time at least... They'd seen chimps swinging on ropes, zebras running, and some very cute looking baby hyenas. They were coming up on the reptile house though, and that just happened to be the favorite of both boys. Petunia could be less thrilled, but she'd survive. They moved from exhibit to exhibit, staring at the slow moving creatures; watching tongues flick, and eyes dart. A corn snake slid smoothly into its little pool of water, and a chameleon caught a stray fly.

Eventually Dudley came upon a snake that simply sat there, gloomily motionless. After the oversized males tried to wake the poor thing from its rest, they moved on to better creatures.

Harry stayed though, leaning over the rail, feeling bad for the thing. He knew what it was like to be locked in a small room and screamed at. They shared that in common. "Sorry 'bout them," he said to the snake, childlike and innocent, through the glass. "They don't know what it's like, lying there day after day..." The snake seemed to be listening, its head flicked to the side, watching Harry curiously through the window. "Can you... understand me?" He asked, feeling a sense of young excitement brewing inside of him. The snake... nodded? Harry was taken aback. He hadn't expected the snake to answer... More, he was just having fun. His eyes widened, "I'm away from my family too. My parents are dead. ... Do you miss them? Your family?" The snake appeared to move its head, Harry looked in the direction. _Raised in Captivity_ the sign read. "I see. I didn't know my parents either."

Harry was suddenly knocked to the ground by an elephant of a boy, "Mum! Dad! You won't believe what the snake's doing!" Dudley shouted, pressing his pig nose up against the once clean glass.

Harry rubbed his arm where his large cousin had hit him, glaring angrily. Suddenly, without warning, Harry's anger faded as he watched his oppressor fall through the glass which had disa-... no... it couldn't have... The glass appeared to have... disappeared...? Yes, so it had! There was Dudley, sitting in the snake's pool, shocked, and looking _very_ displeased. The snake slid around him and out over the railing. It lifted its head once again to meet Harry's eyes, and Harry could have sworn it had said, "thanks," in a sort of hissing voice.

"Any time..." Harry said, shock still controlling him. Around him the house exploded into shrieks, running, and the word "snake!" over and over again.

The boys were rushed home, and Harry, as usual, was locked in his room. Somehow, the occurrence of the vanishing glass had been _his_ fault. Typical. Outside he could hear the family still freaking out, moving about like madmen. At least Harry had that to brighten his mood.


	2. The Owls, the Island, and the-

**A/N: Hey all, it's been a while. Yes it has. But I've dedicated today to updating ALL of my fanfics! Oh yes, this is happening. I know this is off to a slow start, we all know what happens in these chapters, but we've got to work up to that point where things start to change... lol It's coming soon, I promise. ;) But for now, please review, tell me what you like, what I should work on, and what you think will or should happen. I love to hear from you(: Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

II

The Owls, the Island, and the Keeper of the Keys

The smell of half burnt bacon played in Harry's nose, making it itch and twitch. It wasn't his fault though, after all, he was only ten and he was cooking a very large amount of bacon for some very large people. The thin strips hissed and sizzled in the pan, cracking and popping here and there when it decided to ferociously spit oil at Harry's unprotected hands. Finally the eggs were done, the toast had popped, and the sausages and turned a nice golden brown and Harry was able to take all of the burning foods off the stove. As the small boy began to put plates down on the table, a click could be heard from the front door.

"Harry, get the mail." Aunt Petunia demanded, shoving Dudley into a seat that barely fit him.

As if he didn't already have enough to do... "Make Dudley do it!" He argued, setting Uncle Vernon's overloaded plate down in front of him. The man's moustache began to jerk in anticipation, as the smells of breakfast awakened his senses.

"Dudley," Uncle Vernon said, wanting everyone to quite down so he could eat and read his newspaper in peace. "Get the mail."

Dudley scowled at Harry and then put on his best whiney pig face and looked up at his mother. "Mummy, I'm hungry make Harry do it!"

As Uncle Vernon slapped down his half opened newspaper, his nephew rushed out of the room, suddenly very eager to collect the mail.

It had come through the letter box on the door as usual, and had landed in a messy pile on the floor. Envelopes of all shapes and colours lay scattered across the mat. As he began to sort through them, he was suddenly aware of one particular envelope, addressed to him! How very peculiar, he thought, that someone would write to him. The envelope was an old antique looking yellow, with a deep red wax stamp sealing it on the back.

_Mr Harry Potter  
Little Whining, England  
4 Private Drive  
the Cupboard under the Stairs_

How very peculiar indeed, that someone would know that he slept in a cupboard! He was so struck by the strange letter that he hadn't even realized he'd walked back into the kitchen, and placed the rest of the mail down onto the table for Aunt Petunia to sort. Of course, his clumsiness gave him away as Dudley looked on in horror as his much smaller cousin began to tear open his letter.

"Dad! Dad look! Harry's got a letter!" The boy shouted, pointing an atrocious sausage finger at Harry's letter.

"Oh no, no he doesn't." Uncle Vernon said, face turning a darker shade of red than it usually was. He wobbled angrily to his feet and reached out his plump hand towards the letter.

Harry of course was much faster than his very round Uncle, and raced his way through the kitchen, into the hall, and into his cupboard before he could be caught. Unfortunately, his cozy little cupboard locked from the outside. Uncle Vernon had his arm inside the tiny room before Harry could so much as turn the slightly crumpled envelope over in his hand. "Oh no you don'!" The now purple faced man shouted, snatching away the envelope furiously. Grumbling, he retreated from the much too small space, and slammed the door shut, locking Harry in once more.

That wasn't the only time the strange letter arrived though. It appeared many more times after that, always being plopped onto the mat with the rest of the mail. Until one day that is, when the letters became much more fervent. It wasn't long before the whole family was finding them in all sorts of strange places! In the book shelves, inside uncracked eggs, on Uncle Vernon's car... It was as if by magic! But every time was the same. A miraculous letter would be found, and Uncle Vernon would tear it up and lock Harry in his room.

This continued for some time, until the letter sender seemed to become very cross. In fact, it seemed as if the letter sender was sending owls with the letters... It was very strange, and it must have been a very strange coincidence, but Harry was sure that for every letter that was sent to him, another owl found its way to Number Four Private Drive. Soon enough there were owls covering the house, the car, the lawn, the backyard, the fence, the road, the driveway! They were everywhere! Aunt Petunia refused to leave the house, and Uncle Vernon had a nasty time trying to get into his car to go to work every morning. He would shout and wave his arms and shoe the large birds for twenty minutes every morning until he could shift them over enough to open his door.

And the letters kept coming. Not through the mail box, as that had been shut up by the "handy skills" of Harry's uncle and not through the fireplace as they'd had that covered as well... Well, not until now of course. Now that the family was all sitting contently in the den, chewing on the snacks they were being served by their resident slave. It was a good day today. Today was a Sunday. And on Sundays, the post office did not deliver mail. It was regrettably so, that the post office was closed, but the... err... Owls were not. They had congregated outside again and were staring attentively inside the house with their round black eyes, watching, and waiting. And then it happened. A letter flew into the room, and brushed right under Uncle Vernon's nose. Everyone froze, looking around, not quite sure where that letter could have possibly come from. No one made move to grab the letter, all just sat and stared at each other, horrified. Another letter came. And then another. Suddenly a rumbling sound began and the room slowly began to panic.

"Mummy, what's going on?" Dudley cried, clutching onto his chair.

Letters began to pour into the room down the chimney, breaking through the letter box, coming in through window and every other little crevice they could find. In the chaos, Harry saw his chance and grabbed the first letter that came towards him, and he ran for his cupboard.

He was attacked though, by very large hands that grabbed him and the envelope he was holding. "No you don't!" Uncle Vernon shouted. "We're going away from here! Far away! Where they can't find us!" He had Harry by the hair, and quickly, they were all scrounging around. Vernon, running Harry out to be locked now inside the car, Aunt Petunia upstairs to pack various this and that, and Dudley to cry and run about in horror as the letters continued to pile in.

They drove for hours, long into the night and the next morning. They got a boat, and they took that boat far out to a small island with just enough room for a disheveled looking old shack.

Inside was rotting and worn, every inch of floor creaked under even the slightest footstep. A thick layer of dust coated the furniture, and the fireplace was soaked from rain pouring down the chimney. The whole place had acquired an old musty salty scent, a mixture of seaweed and mold. All in all, the place was homey. Harry's Aunt and Uncle had taken the bedroom upstairs, leaving Dudley the couch to rest on, and Harry, the floor. Not that he wasn't used to sleeping on uncomfortable surfaces (he'd had the same mattress since he was a baby, and it wasn't even new then!)

The little shack was cold at night, and it creaked all on its own. Harry was sure that soon enough though, the rain or whistling wind would put out the fire in the fire place, and he'd be left in darkness in the creep old place. He wasn't ready to sleep yet. It was 11:55 p.m, and he was drawing in the dust on the floor. He'd made a little cake shape with candles sticking out of it, with the words "_Happy Birthday"_ scribbled inside it. In five minutes, Harry would turn eleven. 11:59 came, and Harry prepared himself. 12:00 a.m. "Make a wish Harry," he said to himself, trying to find comfort. He closed his eyes, wished, and then blew out the dust candles on the floor. 12:01 a.m. _Bang!_

Harry sat upright on the floor, eyes wide. _Bang!_ Dudley was up too now, looking just as frightened as Harry did. _Bang! Bang!_ Dust fell from the ceiling as ear splitting knocks hit the front of the shack. Harry's aunt and uncle were creeping down the stairs, hiding behind a large shot gun that Uncle Vernon most likely did not know how to use. _Bang! _Whoever – or whatever – was making that noise had had enough. The door was pushed it, and then slammed down to the floor, accompanied by a large cracking sound as the wood split. Screams filled the air as the family looked on, horrified by the scene playing out before them. It had gotten very dark, except for the lightning illuminating the sky in the storm. The falling door and the wind together had put out the fire.

A large shadow of what seemed like a very, _very,_ oversized man was creeping towards the broken entrance. Harry ran and ducked behind the fireplace wall, trying to hide himself as best he could.

The large footsteps stopped, and the room was silent for a moment. "Well hello there!" A deep gruff voice boomed, making Harry jump.

"Y-y-you s-sir, are b-br-breaking and ent-entering!" Uncle Vernon stammered, pointing the long gun towards the giant man.

"Shut up Dursley," The voice boomed again. "Ya great buffoon." A charring nails on the chalkboard, forks on a plate type noise filled the air as the great man's hand reached out and effortlessly bent the gun to a ninety degree angle. Uncle Vernon made a noise that no grown man should ever make, that sounded something like a filled balloon that one lets go of, if there also happened to be a cat inside it.

"Ah, and you must be Harry!" The voice came again, and Harry tightened himself up against the wall. "You a little bigger than I'd expected, particularly around the middle." The voice was bright, cheerful.

"I... I'm not.. H-Harry..." Dudley squeaked.

"Yer not?"

"No," Harry said confidently, stepping out of his hiding place. "I am." What did he have to lose? Really, there was no worse fate that being stuck with the Dursleys.

"Well of course you are." The man said, smiling. This was the first time Harry had seen him. He was tall – if that was even the word for it. He head brushed the ceiling, even as the man stood hunched. He was also about half as wide as he was tall, with a very thick beard that went halfway down his chest, and long messy hair to match it. He wore skins, and big leather boots, and a powerful air of buoyancy. "Here you are," he started. "I brought ye something. 'Fraid I might've sat on it a little, but, I'm sure it'll taste all the same." He handed a package to Harry, which Harry took cautiously.

Inside was a pink cake – to use the word cake lightly – with the words "_Happy Birthday Harry_" written across it in blue and green frosting. "Thank you..." Harry said quietly, unsure of the feelings he felt stirring inside of him which ranged from blinding happiness that someone had acknowledged his birthday, to absolute fear and confusion.

"Not every day that yer young man turns eleven, now is it?" The man looked genuinely proud as he sat himself down on the couch (not to mention that he took up the whole thing), and pointed his umbrella at the fireplace. Sparks shot out the end of it and relit the fire that had gone out.

After the screams from his family subsided, Harry spoke up again. "Sorry, but uh... Who are you?"

Unchanged by the question, the man replied, "Rubeus Hagrid, Kepper of Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, and then thought about what he'd heard. What? "What's Hogwarts?"

"Oh, right, forgot to give ye what I came 'ere for," he chuckled, pulling something out of his heavy looking leather coat. It was a letter. "Here ye are." He let Harry take the letter, gingerly, and the boy savored the moment.

While his family looked on, Harry read out his letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOOL _of _WITHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equiptment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress


End file.
